


The Taste of Ink

by hukelemmings (dafeedil)



Series: Good Excuse to Be a Bad Influence [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Awkward Flirting, Banter, Flirting, Fluff, HINTS OF MICHAEL HAVING A DICK PIERCING, Light-Hearted, M/M, Muke - Freeform, Oh, Piercings, Pining, Short, Shyness, Teasing, WHICH IS VERY SEXY DONT FIGHT ME ON THIS, mostly it's just a lot of fluff and a bit of banter between Michael and Luke, side cashton, tattoo artist!Ashton, there's really no real rhyme or reason to this at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 14:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2854346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dafeedil/pseuds/hukelemmings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“S’not funny,” Luke spits.</p><p>“S’really fucking funny,” Michael replies effortlessly, wiping dampness from his eyes as he winds himself down, the occasional chuckle wracking his body. “Never had that reaction before. Surely you know people do that, right? Dick piercings are an actual thing.”</p><p>Luke rolls his eyes, because duh, he knew those kinds of body modifications existed, he just didn’t sign up for looking at pictures of other people’s penises, thanks.</p><p>
  <em>Or, Luke gets his lip pierced, and Michael is the technician that does it for him.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Taste of Ink

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ithinkitsautumn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithinkitsautumn/gifts).



> This is honestly nothing but an excuse to write romcom banter and awkward Luke.  
> Also, probably my least favorite thing I've written, which is why I've posted it to my pseud. 
> 
> And yes, Autumn, this is gifted to you, because even though you didn't beta this for me, I still wrote it with you in mind, pretty much! Merry Christmas, love!

“Don’t be such a baby.”

“Fuck off, Calum.”

“Seriously—you’re eighteen now, what’s stopping you?”

“Fuck _off_ , Calum.”

Calum sighs, throwing himself dramatically back against the passenger seat of Luke’s car. They’ve been sitting in the parking lot for over ten minutes now, facing a small tattoo and piercing parlor named To The Moon Tattoo. Luke’s just trying to work up some courage, because yesterday was his eighteenth birthday and he’s been dying to get his lip pierced for months preceding this moment.

Now that he’s here, though, he’s freaking the fuck out, because _what was he thinking_? He’s not good with any pain whatsoever, and just thinking about shoving metal through his face is making him sweat a little. He grips the steering wheel more tightly, knuckles going white.

His best friend huffs for the hundredth time, and Luke turns to glare at him. Calum just glares right back, lips set in a frown, and Luke groans in defeat, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Is it too late to turn around and go home?”

Calum makes this horribly frustrated noise, unfastening his seat belt and throwing the strap over his shoulder. “Yes, now quit being so lame about this. It’s just a piercing. One you’ve wanted for months, I might add.”

Luke closes his eyes and nods, willing his stomach to stop churning like this. Calum’s right, he’s wanted this for a long time, and now there’s nothing stopping him. No age restriction in place or parental consent needed. He just needs to grow a pair and fucking _do it_.

“This place is good, right?” Luke asks, and Calum nods, rolling his eyes.

“ _Yes_ , I already told you that. I’ve gotten all my tattoos here. They’re professional and very good at what they do. Now come _on_ already, I know you can do this. Stop being such a chicken shit.”

Luke exhales shakily, then nods, unlatching his own seat belt and killing the engine of the car. Calum cheers, throwing his door open and scrambling out of the vehicle. Luke does the same thing, though at a much, _much_ slower pace.

The walk across the parking lot is almost unbearable, and Luke feels like every step he takes forward causes the entrance to the parlor to shrink further away. That’s totally false, obviously, because far more quickly than he’d like, Luke is pushing against it, the door flying open easily with a chime.

Immediately, he’s greeted with the sound of the guns buzzing, as well as some rock station currently playing Nirvana over the speakers.

It’s busy, a majority of the chairs in the front filled with customers under the needle, and Luke flinches as he watches. He doesn’t think he could ever undergo a tattoo, despite how Calum tells him it’s not nearly as bad as it looks.

“Calum!” A voice shouts, and Luke’s eyes follow the sound, landing on a tattoo artist organizing his station. He’s got these thick black framed glasses on, a mop of sandy, curly hair, and from what Luke can see, no tattoos whatsoever. He thinks that’s odd for an artist, but whatever, to each their own.

“Ashton, hey!” Calum replies coolly, winking, and Luke suddenly puts together that this must be the guy Calum was freaking out about when he called Luke a few weeks ago to enthuse about his first tattoo. He’d said his artist was a total babe, how he could barely keep himself from popping a boner the whole hour and a half it took to get inked. (He’d also gone back for more tats on at least three separate occasions since then, requesting the same artist each time.)

Ashton rearranges a couple bottles of ink before walking over to them, sticking his hand out for Calum to shake. He takes Ashton’s hand, and Luke observes how the artist’s eyes trail lovingly along Calum’s tanned arm, admiring his own handiwork.

“They healed beautifully,” Ashton says, reaching out with his other hand to trace the feathers on Calum’s tribal tattoo, and it’s suddenly getting very intimate in there, Luke decides.

He coughs awkwardly, pulling Ashton out of his daze, and he smiles brightly at the blonde boy.

“I’m so sorry, how rude of me. I’m Ashton,” he says, reaching out to shake Luke’s hand. His grip is firm, and Luke thinks that Calum was right, they really are pretty professional here.

“Luke,” he replies, smiling sheepishly before Ashton redirects his attention back to Calum.

“Drag your friend in here to help you through another session?” Ashton teases, and Calum rolls his eyes, shoving the other boy’s shoulder playfully. Luke thinks they seem to have a really easy chemistry, which is odd because Calum makes himself so difficult to get along with sometimes. They almost look like soul mates, in this moment, because even for Luke (who’s been around Calum his whole life), getting along with his best friend is a chore.

Calum shakes his head, extending his arm to punch Luke’s bicep lightly. “Nah, not here for me this time. It’s Luke’s turn.”

Ashton turns to face Luke, smiling widely with wonderment in his hazel eyes. He makes a little gasping noise before clapping his hands. “Oh my gosh, I’d be honored to do it if you’d have me! Let me just grab my sketch book and portfolio, you can describe the design to me—“ He spins around and starts towards his station, but Luke stops him, grabbing his wrist before he’s out of reach and shaking his head frantically.

“No, oh my gosh, no!” Luke exclaims, hyperventilating a little. He feels a twinge of sadness at the disappointment in Ashton’s eyes, so he quickly does some damage control. “No tattoos, I’m sorry. I just…I was hoping for a piercing, and Calum said you guys were the best in town…”

Calum blushes when Ashton smirks at him. “Best in town, huh?” He waggles his eyebrows slightly at the tattooed boy, and judging by the nervous laugh and sideways glance at Luke Calum responds with, the two of them have totally hooked up. There’s no denying it anymore, not with all these seductive undertones and all this eye fucking going on right now.

Luke clears his throat to gain attention once more, and again, Ashton apologizes, turning to the blonde boy with remnants of a teasing smile still etched on his face.

“So, a piercing, eh?” Ashton asks, waving the two boys over to the counter. He steps behind it, clicking something into their computer before scrolling around on it for a few seconds. “I only do piercings on Mondays and Wednesdays, so I can’t help you this time round.” He looks up at Calum and Luke, who are leaning against the counter, watching. “Are you comfortable with having someone else?”

Luke looks over to Calum, who just shrugs at his best friend before messing around with some business cards on the countertop. Luke tsks at him, the unhelpful fiend, turning back to Ashton.

“That’s fine, I guess. Doesn’t really matter who does it, I don’t think.” Luke says, so quietly he’s worried Ashton didn’t hear him, but then the curly haired boy is smiling and nodding, scrolling and typing into the computer again.

“Michael’s the only open technician today. Which is great news for you, because he’s actually fucking amazing. Better than anyone here, I’d reckon.” Ashton tells him.

Luke sighs heavily in relief, a weight drifting off his shoulders, and he suddenly feels _so much better_. His first piercing isn’t going to be done by a total moron, it’ll be someone with lots of talent and practice.

Afraid to miss out on this too perfect opportunity, Luke nods eagerly. “Yeah, yeah. Sign me up before I lose my nerve.”

Ashton laughs loudly, earning a few quick glances from the other artists at their stations, who’re all involved in their own conversations, calling out to each other from across the room and keeping everything feeling light hearted.

“What kind of piercing are you getting that’s got you so nervous?” Ashton asks, raising an eyebrow.

Calum groans, shoving his way into Luke’s space and pointedly nodding his head in the boy’s direction. “A fucking _lip_ ring. He’s such a baby. Ash, tell him what a baby he is.”

Before Luke can tease Calum for letting his nickname for Ashton slip and before Ashton can inevitably call Luke a baby, there’s a loud thump coming from the doorway between the back rooms and the open floor, and suddenly all the employees (including _Ash_ ) are laughing.

“Motherfucker.” The owner of the noise snaps quickly.

Luke laughs halfheartedly, thinking it’s something of a joke for a brief moment, but then the door to the back rooms swings open, and a very attractive, _very_ hungover boy with fire engine red hair is standing in the archway.

A few of the artists cheer from their stations, shouting greetings to the boy, who looks to be only a year or two older than Luke. He’s wearing black skinnies, boots, and a baggy white long sleeve shirt that hangs so low on his arms it gives him sweater paws. Which, if Luke’s honest, are way too adorable for their own good, this guy is unrealistically cute, _what the fuck_.

The red haired boy staggers through the chairs, mumbling soft hello’s to customers he must recognize as regulars. He stops briefly to chat with the ones he knows, looking highly intrigued even though he seems nauseous and there are heavy bags under his eyes.

Luke wonders why anyone would let a tattoo artist work in his condition. Whatever, at least he’s not going under the needle. Well, not the needle of a tattoo gun, anyway.

Luke turns his attention back to Ashton, who’s scrawling something down into a book—probably writing in Luke’s appointment—and giggling every time Calum brushes a loose curl out of the artist’s face.

There’s a groaning noise then, disrupting the easy silence that had fallen over the three of them, and Luke looks up, finding the cute redhead standing behind the counter next to Ashton, reading whatever it is the curly haired boy has written down. He doesn’t look pleased, rubbing his eyes with his sweater covered fists and fighting a yawn.

Luke has to physically stop himself from ‘aww’ing.

 “ _Ash_ , why would you do this to me?” The boy asks, sticking his lip out in a pathetic little frown, resting his head on Ashton’s shoulder. Calum tenses a bit, and Luke nudges the boy’s arm a little as if to tell him how ridiculously jealous that makes him look.

Ashton rolls his eyes, shoving the boy off of him. “Because you work today, duh?” The words are sarcastic, but his eyes and smile are full of humor rather than hostility.

The boy just groans again, tossing his head back dramatically, and Luke’s starting to think maybe this guy and Calum are the _real_ soul mates, both of them throwing fits all day like it’s their damn jobs.

“Yeah, but it’s so _early_.” He says, bringing his head back up and pointing to the book Ashton had written in. “You never give me appointments before three on Saturdays!”

Ashton rolls his eyes so hard that Luke thinks they might pop out of his skull. “Believe it or not, you get paid to _work_ on Saturdays, not sleep off your Friday night binge drinking in the back rooms. Now come on, Luke here needs a piercing.”

The boy looks up and meets Luke’s eyes for the first time since he walked over, and _fuck_ , Luke wants to die, those emerald orbs are insanely beautiful.

“You my two o’clock?” The guy asks, and Luke’s eyes widen, finally putting two and two together.

 _This_ is Michael. _This_ is the guy that’s going to pierce his lip. _This_ is the guy that’s hungover and probably way too exhausted to be sticking a needle through anything.

 _Ashton said he was the best_ , Luke reminds himself, biting his lip.

“Luke,” he introduces himself, sticking his hand out over the counter, and Michael shakes it firmly, smiling. Now that they’re so close, Luke observes that Michael has a single piercing through his right brow, as well as simple black studs in each of his ears. Which, again, is surprising to Luke, because in one day he’s met a tattoo artist with no ink, and a piercing technician with hardly any metal. He thinks he’s probably stereotyping or something, though, so he changes his train of thought.

“I’m Michael,” the tech says, releasing Luke’s hand and reaching under the desk for a clipboard. He sticks a couple forms on it, before grabbing a pen and motioning for Luke to follow him. “Come with me, and we can talk through the details, yeah?”

Luke nods nervously, looking to Calum as he starts after Michael. But Calum only smirks, winking at his best friend before turning his attention back to Ashton.

Michael leads Luke to the door he’d practically tripped through, holding it open and allowing Luke to walk into the hallway in the middle of all the back rooms. Only one of the rooms is currently occupied, but the door is shut so Luke can’t see what kind of tattoo is being given.

Michael places his hand on the small of Luke’s back, pushing him just slightly, and _oh_ , _right_ , _walking_. “This way,” Michael instructs, and Luke nods, letting himself be led.

Towards the end of the hallway, Michael unlocks a door and enters, flicking on the lights and motioning for Luke to follow him inside. Hesitantly, he does so, looking around at the poster covered walls. There’s a few shelves that are supporting clear boxes, each of them holding sterile needles, studs, rings, and swabs. Luke swallows dryly, suddenly overwhelmed.

The red haired boy takes a seat on a small rolling chair, engrossed in reading the top form on his clipboard. He looks almost like a doctor, and Luke actually (embarrassingly) snorts in laughter. It’s not even funny, really, he’s just _so fucking nervous_ that laughing makes everything more bearable.

Michael looks up, quirking his pierced eyebrow and smirking. “What’s funny?”

Luke gapes, shaking his head. “Uh—nothing.”

The technician chuckles lowly, pointing to a reclining chair in the middle of the room. “Wanna have a seat so we can knock this out, Luke?”

The blonde boy resists the urge to make a comment about how he feels like he’s about to be knocked out, how he’s so shaky and nervous he can’t stand it. Instead, he just nods tightly and sinks into the leather.

Michael wheels himself over to Luke, writing something down across the top of the paper he’s been holding. “So, Luke, what kind of piercing were you thinking?”

Luke reaches up, fingertips brushing his lips softly. He furrows his eyebrows, thinking, because he truthfully hasn’t decided _where_ on his lip he wants the piercing, or even what style he wants.

“I, uh…don’t know?” Luke says.

Michael chuckles again, looking up and setting the clipboard down on the small prep table next to Luke’s chair. “You don’t _know_?” He sounds amused, smile never faltering once, not since they sat down. Luke thinks Michael’s smile is the brightest thing he’s seen in his life.

“Well, like, I barely had the balls to finally come in here. I didn’t want to dwell on all the options, I just wanted to focus on getting _this_ far.” Luke stutters, fingers suddenly becoming very interested in picking at a loose thread in his jeans.

Michael scoots over to a shelf, pulling out a thick binder and handing it to Luke. “We take pictures of almost every piercing we do here, so maybe these can give you some ideas?”

Luke sighs in relief, nodding gratefully at Michael and taking the binder in his shaky hands. The technician winks—don’t read into it Luke, fuck—before grabbing the clipboard and burying himself in signing a couple of the pages.

Luke flips open the binder, quickly flipping through the pictures of nose rings, eyebrow piercings (Michael’s stud is in that set, he can tell by the red fringe visible in the photo), and a couple of belly button rings.

The next page, though, has Luke squealing loudly and slamming the binder shut, because yeah, that was a _penis_.

Michael’s eyes turn to the size of saucers, and he looks up at Luke in shock. “What, what’s wrong?” He asks, sounding worried.

Luke stares back, eyes probably twice as wide as the boy before him. He can just _feel_ his cheeks heating up with embarrassment, and he thinks he mutters out the word “penis”.

Michael freezes for half a second, before a laugh tears through him, eyes crinkling and face turning red with the force of it. Luke just pouts, glaring at him as the technician clutches his sides, eyes watering with how hard he’s laughing.

“S’not funny,” Luke spits.

“S’really fucking funny,” Michael replies effortlessly, wiping dampness from his eyes as he winds himself down, the occasional chuckle wracking his body. “Never had that reaction before. Surely you know people do that, right? Dick piercings are an actual thing.”

Luke rolls his eyes, because duh, he knew those kinds of body modifications existed, he just didn’t sign up for looking at pictures of other people’s penises, thanks.

Bravely (okay, not all that bravely, he just wants to spare the dignity he has left), Luke opens the binder back up, this time not quickly looking away from the genital piercing section.

It’s actually sort of fascinating, Luke thinks, as his eyes scan from photo to photo. They look painful, there’s no doubt, especially since the men in them clearly had to be at full hardness to even _get_ the piercing done. He shudders at the idea of having to keep a stiffy when someone’s sticking a needle in your dick, flipping the page again.

“It’s for pleasure, mostly,” Michael says randomly. Luke looks up, furrowing his eyebrows.

“What?” He asks.

Michael rolls closer, pointing to the page of piercings that Luke’s been admiring (ahem, _observing_ ).

“The piercings. Guys basically get them done for their partners’ pleasure, not their own.” Michael explains. “The barbells can reach spots an unmodified cock just can’t.”

Luke blushes, flipping the page quickly. “You talk like you know from experience.”

Michael smirks slyly, and Luke immediately regrets making his comment.

“Who’s to say I don’t?” Michael says coolly, and Luke sort of feels like he’s going to stop breathing any second now, because there’s no way Michael should be allowed to be this hot _and_ this shameless. Luke wishes it was that easy for him to make sexual innuendos, so effortless.

Luke swallows, eyes glazing over as he tries to pull them away from Michael’s.

“In fact,” Michael adds lowly, leaning closer so that their mouths are only inches apart, “who’s to say one of those pictures isn’t of me?”

And yeah, fuck, _okay_. That’s fine. Luke doesn’t need oxygen anyway, Michael can _have_ it, since he’s stolen it from Luke’s lungs with one simple sentence.

Luke closes the binder firmly, thrusting it into Michael’s chest pointedly. The red haired boy smirks, green eyes flickering with mischief, but he still backs his face away from Luke’s vicinity.

“Just a lip ring.” Luke says quickly, deciding before he’s even gotten to browse the lip piercing photo collection. Michael knows he hasn’t looked at them yet, but he remains quiet. “Right here, on the lower left side.”

The technician nods, pushing with his feet and rolling himself into the corner by the work station.

Luke exhales shakily, laying down and covering his face with his hands. When not knowing what’s going on in the room around him gets too nerve wracking, Luke watches Michael work through a slit between his fingers.

Michael is standing, sliding some black latex gloves onto his hands. He reaches into a couple of the boxes, grabbing sterile tools from them and placing them on a tray. Again, the whole thing reminds Luke of a doctor prepping for an operation of some kind, and his stomach flips.

The red haired boy grabs a couple pieces of jewelry from a bin, setting them on the tray as well. He pours something into a small cup, and then he picks up the tray, walking over to where Luke is ~~hyperventilating~~ sitting.

“Okay,” Michael says, smiling softly. “You’re sure, Luke?”

“Don’t make it sound so, like, life or death.” Luke mutters, and Michael rolls his eyes.

“I’m not even. I just have to ask your permission a final time before I stick a ring in your lip, you dork.” Michael sounds so matter of fact, and Luke sighs, nodding firmly (more to encourage himself than anything).

“Right, yeah. It’s fine. I’m sure.” Luke rushes out, and Michael chuckles at him for about the millionth time today.

Michael grabs one of the cotton swabs, dipping it in antiseptic and running it along the skin below Luke’s lower lip. He hands Luke the cup afterwards, and peering into it, Luke can see that the contents are an aqua color. He sniffs it, suspicious, but the strong minty scent tells him it’s mouthwash.

He tosses it back like a shot, rinsing his mouth for a solid thirty seconds before spitting back into the cup. Michael takes it from him, tossing it into the garbage can behind him.

“Alright, now, I need you to verify the placement, okay?” Michael asks, uncapping a pen and gently grabbing Luke’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. Luke’s skin sort of feels on fire underneath the touch, but he does his best to convince himself that’s just the nerves rather than the fact that Michael is _so fucking attractive_.

Luke nods, and Michael leans in close, armed with a pen. He’s so close it almost seems like he should be kissing Luke (and really, he _should_ be, because those lips are so pink and full and would just look excellent slotted between Luke’s), but all he does is squint in concentration, dabbing a dot of ink under Luke’s bottom lip.

Michael inspects his placement for a second, then pulls back, offering up a handheld mirror. Luke juts out his jaw, tilting slightly and trying to imagine a ring pierced through the dot Michael’s drawn on his skin. It seems good enough for Luke, because he knows nothing about this process really, so he just nods again.

“It’s good.” Luke mumbles.

The red haired boy smiles, setting down the pen and grabbing the bagged jewelry from earlier. He holds them up to Luke, asks which one he wants, and the blonde boy decides on a simple black ring.

“Okay, Luke,” Michael announces, and Luke’s stomach churns in anticipation. “This is going to be a little uncomfortable, but it’s not the worst thing you’re ever gonna feel, yeah?”

Luke fights the urge to tell Michael that this is literally the worst pep talk he’s ever received. He just nods, mouth too dry to form any words.

Michael tugs on Luke’s lip, pinching a clamp down over the dot he’d made. Luke squeezes his eyes and breathes slowly, knowing this is it, this is the moment he’s been waiting for, it’s _fucking happening_.

And then it’s done.

There’s an instant of pain and Luke winces noticeably and then there’s a giant needle sticking through his face, a grinning Michael attached to it.

“You did so good, Lukey!” Michael beams proudly, and Luke would totally tease him for assigning the boy a nickname so quickly into their first day of knowing each other, if it weren’t for the metal rod piercing his mouth.

Luke just rolls his eyes, and the message must get across pretty clearly, because Michael just laughs heartily, reaching over to the tray and unscrewing the ring. He runs it through Luke’s lip, removing the needle once it’s secure.

Luke runs his tongue over the jewelry, the new sensation sending a shiver down his spine. It’s sore, and his lip is definitely swollen, but it feels _right_. Like the ring has always belonged there.

“Well, fuck.” Michael grumbles, removing his gloves and throwing them in the trash angrily.

Luke’s eyes widen, and he brings his hands up to cover his mouth. “What? Oh my god, what? Is it bad? Does it look awful? Shit, I knew it would look bad on me, fuck.”

Michael laughs, shaking his head. “No, no. It’s just that, like, I thought you were cute _before_ , but now you’ve got this damn ring, and, well. Now, you’re downright _sexy_.”

The blonde boy feels his skin flush, and he casts his eyes down, not even fighting the smile that breaks across his face at Michael’s compliment.

* * *

 After Michael walks through the aftercare procedures with Luke and gives him a bottle of antiseptic, the two of them walk back towards the front room.

When they reemerge, the parlor is much busier than before, every single chair in the front occupied. Calum is sitting in the waiting room holding some magazine (which he’s totally not reading, he’s staring at Ashton over the top of it), and Ashton is hunched over some girl’s abdomen, tattooing some happy and colorful thing on her hipbone.

Michael leads Luke to the counter, smiling widely when his eyes catch Luke running his tongue over his ring again.

“Gonna run you thirty bucks, Lukey.” Michael winks just as Calum walks up, and the tattooed boy raises his eyebrows expectantly at Luke.

Luke just groans, rolling his eyes and handing his credit card to Michael.

“Let me see it!” Calum gushes, grabbing Luke’s cheeks between his palms and turning the blonde boy’s face towards his. He squints, inspecting the ring, before his face breaks out into a shit eating grin. “Luke, holy shit, it looks so fucking good!”

“It looks so fucking hot,” Michael mutters, and Calum throws his head back in laughter, wiggling his eyebrows at Luke afterwards.

Michael hands Luke’s card back to him then, and Calum just smirks before telling Luke he’ll be waiting in the car.

With his best friend gone, Luke turns to Michael, who’s leaning his forearms on the counter and looking pretty cocky. Luke thinks it’s probably the hottest he’s looked all day.

He looks as though he’s expecting Luke to say something, maybe ask for his number or just ask to hang out, or even just to say “thanks, have a nice day”.

But Luke can’t think of anything clever. So he just leans in, trying not to think about the way Michael licks his lips as he does so.

“Earlier, when you were talking about your… _picture_ being in that book. Were…were you being serious?” Luke asks.

Michael laughs, closing the distance between them and whispering into the skin just behind Luke’s ear. “I guess you’ll just have to see it for yourself to figure that out, now won’t you?”

Luke won’t even deny the spark of lust that response gives him.


End file.
